


Delirium Tremens

by ClassicalTorture



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Drinking, Guns, M/M, mild description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:17:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassicalTorture/pseuds/ClassicalTorture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU.  A homely hobbit Bilbo and his Communal flat neighbor Thorin that gets drunk enough to see little red dragons. Bilbo gets squeezed in the hallway by said neighbor who then starts assuring Bilbo that he is the King Under the Mountain but Without a Mountain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delirium Tremens

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Белая горячка](https://archiveofourown.org/works/649064) by [Towaristsch_Mauser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Towaristsch_Mauser/pseuds/Towaristsch_Mauser). 



> Delirium Tremens by Towaristsch_Mauser Translation from Russian by ClassicalTorture  
> All credit for this goes to Towaristsch_Mauser, as ClassicalTorture is simply an translator.

In one very large country, in a big, multilevel building, on the last floor there was typical 3-room apartment, with a long intestine of a hallway on the walls of which there were always skies, sleds, and badminton rackets. The room closest to the door was the smallest, and in that little room lived Bilbo Baggins.

At one point he was very well off and lived in his own comforts, but, one day his cozy typical apartment was crammed into according to the plan of relocation. The biggest room got occupied by a whole family, with sleds, skates, and summer hockey sticks and the corner room got assigned to a strange fellow named Thorin.

The corner room was as cold as a sobering-up station, but that didn’t help Thorin. He often spend his time getting wasted, and would sometimes goes on month long binges. Thus his mood changed like a calendar, according to the stage of binge drinking he was in at the moment.

Thorin was stout, massive, but had a very stark profile, and always a three-day’s worth of growth on him, as though he was a geologist, just back from an expedition. But Bilbo who didn’t flinch away from gossip knew that Thorin hadn’t been on any expeditions, and had absolutely no connection to the good science of geology. Thorin worked in the service, retired at forty five, and had done nothing ever since except for his drinking activity.

The loud family from the biggest room run off in the morning to kindergarten-schools-jobs, and in the evenings boarded the kitchen. Bilbo worked as an interpreter and often took work home, trying to adjust his bathroom and kitchen schedule so as to not be boarded along with kitchen, and so far he was quite successful at it. Thorin on the other hand had no schedule; went to the kitchen mostly at night, for which was much liked by Bilbo.

The corner room faced the North and East, and had a luxurious balcony on both sides that Bilbo had wanted to frame with glass, but never got the time before the population relocation. Thorin didn’t care, and, each and every morning came outside to greet the sun in his underpants, smoked a cigarette or two, looked over the city and the manufacturing plant’s pipes that were lost in the morning haze, and then returned to his room. It had to be said that Thorin did not only smoke on the balcony though, but also in the room, the hallway, the kitchen… Quite everywhere really, and had greatly annoyed the family and not at all inconvenienced Bilbo, who didn’t mind a smoke himself.

In reality, safe for his limited knowledge about the services and the love for spirits and smokes, Bilbo knew next to nothing about his neighbor. Until something very scary happened.

The very scary looked like a hard man’s hairy chest in a maroon wife beater- for that is exactly what Bilbo’s nose slammed into on his way out of the bathroom.

-What are you doing here, bitch?- asked Thorin and slammed him into the wall.

-I live here,- tried to explain Bilbo, looking into his eyes – dark-blue like an evening lake.

\- You live here…- sighed Thorin and loosened his hold, breathing out a cloud of alcohol fumes – Who’d have thought-

-Something like that- smiled Bilbo a bit confused as he tried to escape back to his room, but was thwarted as his hand was caught and yanked back. Thorin gave Bilbo another sharp look and quietly but seriously said

-I’m a King. Without a kingdom. Do you believe me?-

Bilbo smiled crookedly, contemplating if he would be able to sneak away, and how hard was the door.

-Do you believe?!-

-I don’t understand- shook his head Bilbo.

-I’ll explain.-

-Let’s go then,- said Thorin – we have to talk.-

Alas a conversation did not occur. Bilbo was sitting in a plush-covered chair, looking at the newspaper with the remains of a fish, and smelt the stench of vodka coming from the glass.

Thorin, who had suddenly lost his ability to talk, poured himself a glass of tap water and looked at Bilbo.

-I think I’ll go.-

-Sit down, bitch- coarsely answered Thorin

-You’re a bitch!- yelled Bilbo suddenly, rushed from the chair, pushed Thorin in his chest like a small torpedo, and tried to escape, but was caught momentarily with hands twisting his behind his back. It was horrendously painful, and Bilbo knew that if there was one more little push the bone will break.  A closed or even an open break.

-Let go- pleaded he quietly, breath coming out in loud puffs. –It hurts.-

Thorin thought for a moment but unclenched his fingers leaving bruises in his wake. Petting Bilbo’s shoulders, he grabbed the other and settled him on the chair.

-Sit.- he told him and moved once more towards the window, pressing his back against the windowsill.

-Why?! – huffed Bilbo angrily, rubbing his wrist,- I have to do three pages tomorrow. And you’re just standing there without saying anything.-

-I can’t just tell you everything- said Thorin quietly

-And why’s that? Secret?

-Drink- said Thorin instead of an answer, nodding his head towards the glass.

-I don’t drink…-

-Drink!- ordered the other man, as he pulled out a gun, reflecting dully in the lamp light.

Bilbo immediately raised his hands, just as if he’d been arrested. And just like that, with his hands raised high, leaned over the glass, sipping the throat scalding vodka, tasting almost nothing in wake of his fear.

-You’re strange- said Thorin intrigued, relocating the bothersome gun from the waist of his pants into the pocket. – Drink normally, or you’ll spill everything.-

-Sorry- apologized Bilbo, not knowing what he was apologizing for, as he let out a breath, wet his lips, and felt like a fire-breathing dragon. – Can I eat?-

-Is there anything to eat?- asked Thorin in return.

Bilbo ofcourse had the key to his own fridge, which he opened hospitably, letting Thorin look inside.

Soon enough the table was filled with a beatific assortment of pickled cucumbers and tomatoes, sandwiches with smoked meat and cheese,  anchovies in oil and ham that Bilbo saved for his weekends. But Thorin was looking at everything, and eating with such appetite that Bilbo did not mourn his food, and was only quick enough to cut more bread.

-Will you tell me now?-

Thorin nodded as his long, unfashionably so locks of hair, gathered in a ponytail at the base of his neck, escaped their confinement. He tried to explain, talked, drew something with a chemical pencil on torn pieces of paper, as straight lines smudged into purple blurs, but Bilbo still couldn’t understand what the conversation was about.

-I’m sorry. I don’t understand.- smiled he nervously, and Thorin immediately stopped talking. Catering the dirty dishes into the sink, he threw away the empty bottle and left the kitchen.

Only to return a moment later.

-I have noise in my head- quietly complained the man, -sit with me.

Bilbo looked at the clock, - it was a long way past midnight- and then turned his gaze at Thorin, the bulging pocket of his pants, wide muscular chest and shoulders, covered with the shirt, and thought that even those like Thorin can sleep badly when alone. They can feel bad at night, especially at hours like these, especially when there is so much time till the sunrise.

-Let’s go,- nodded Bilbo, - I’ll sit with you.-

And he really sat on the edge of the bed, closer to the head of it, only to have Thorin grab him and fall asleep, warming his ear with an alcohol filled breaths.

Bilbo felt strange. He saw the phone and he knew the numbers he should dial in case of an emergency: 01, 02, 03. Well, he could go without the firefighters, but the 02 and 03 should have been called, and soon.

But Thorin slept, squeezing him hard in his strong, dependable arms, and Bilbo really didn’t want to get up and call anybody.

Thorin slept and his breathing was deep and even.

There was a fog over the factories as always, but the sun was slowly tearing through it, getting to his post in the sky.

-Sunrise,- said Bilbo, sitting right on the edge of the balcony, swinging his legs. Thorin who was hugging him tight, stood at his back. Unlike Bilbo he was feeling good after yesterday’s drinking- it was either the prolonged exposure and accumulated experience, or the generous amounts of food consumed.

-And yet- said Bilbo, lighting a cigarette from another, -I sill did not understand what you wanted to tell me yesterday.-

-I don’t really understand it myself.- sighed the other, taking the roll-up.

-But I know what I have to find.-

-And what’s that?- Bilbo took a big hit. Somewhere underneath him the life was momentarily suspended as the cars stood, along with the garages and houses. Thorin was quiet, getting rid of the ash by thumping a nail on the paper stick.

Bilbo was finished his smoke, and crushed the butt in the flower pot, that had for a long time been free from any plants, and turned to Thorin, meeting his lips, instead of an answer. Lips that smelled like tobacco, hard, and tightly closed. And, leaning his head back, not minding the kiss at the slightest, gripped his shoulder, letting out short uneven breaths.

-I have to go,- said Thorin, almost closing his eyes, looking very much like a bird, as he stared towards the east, beyond the roofs and the factories.

-Soon?-

-Yes,- nodded he, - the longer I wait, the worse it will be.

-So what are you waiting for?- demurely asked Bilbo, rubbing his nose on the other’s ear. His chest was painfully constricted for some reason, and not at all because of a sleepless night.

-I need a Burglar, - said Thorin, and, wondrously enough, smiled. – I don’t know who he is, but I have to find him. It’s strange, but when you’re near, my head doesn’t hurt and there is no noise in it. Maybe I don’t have to go anywhere anymore? Maybe you’re the Burglar?

He saw Bilbo nod as the wind rustled his curls.

-Will you go with me?-

Bilbo took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> And here you go. A translation of a wonderfully written fic. The original is in Russian and if you wish, and can, read it go here archiveofourow n. org/works /649064  
> There is also a gorgeous piece of art to go with it, you can find it here set--to.tumblr.com/pos t/4110500898 7/illustr at ion-to-au-fic just remove the spaces.  
> 01- Fire department in Russia  
> 02- Pоlice  
> 03- Ambulance


End file.
